Restlessness and Hope
by Deepy
Summary: “Tell me that it’s going to be okay.  Tell me we will get through this.”  A late night chat, a moment of comfort.  RH.  Hopefully consistent with canon during Deathly Hallows.


A/N: I posted this up a week before the release of Deathly Hallows. Suffice to say, here's the updated canon-adhering version.

* * *

Ron turned this way. And he turned that way. He rolled over to one side of the bed. Then, finding it useless, he rolled back over to the other side. This was not happening. Usually, sleep came easily for him. The whole clan of Weasley men was known for being able to sleep in the most uncomfortable of conditions, chairs, hard ground, even standing up. Ron rarely got insomnia and would sleep like a log on a normal day, usually in class. Then again, he figured, these days weren't exactly normal anymore. Going around, asking questions, casting spells, being afraid... 

He needed to sleep, they had another long day ahead tomorrow. He didn't look forward to it, another day of fruitless searching and questioning. But try as he might, he could not sleep. Finding it impossible, he sat up. What was it that Dad always did when he couldn't sleep? He searched his brain.

Ah! Dad would go outside and try to figure out the workings of some strange Muggle invention, as not to disturb Mum. He once said that trying to figure something out that didn't require magic for it to work relaxed him, almost like it made him forget about the world and its complications. Well, that was back in the old days when everything was safer and you could go outside without having to worry about being cursed. These days, Dad would just walk around the house, probably checking in each of their room to see if they were all right. Ron glanced over at Harry's bed. He could hear his best friend softly snoring and decided it was best not to wake him by pacing. Harry needed his sleep more than any of them, and he slept less than they did. The shadows under his eyes were a constant mark on his face now.

Silently, Ron climbed out of bed, grabbing his wand as he did so. These days, it was common for all of them to keep their wand underneath their pillow, in case of a nighttime attack. Ron still couldn't get used to it, living in fear, having to look over their shoulders and be on the alert at all times. Maybe that's why he couldn't sleep, perhaps the unsettling aspect of everything was finally crawling under his skin.

'I need some fresh air,' he thought to himself. He walked through the tent and lifted the door flap. A gust of wind greeted him, sending goose-bumps through his skin. That was when he saw a person sitting in front of the tent. He poised his wand, until he recognized the figure.

It was Hermione, dressed in a cotton robe of lilac, her hair tangled and mussed beyond normal. She was sitting with her back towards him, looking out. It was her turn to keep watch that night. Though if it was up to Ron, he would forbid her from doing that only because the thought of her sitting there alone made him incredibly uneasy. If anything were to happen to her in the middle of the night, they would never know. Of course, he knew that if he ever brought that up to her, she would hex him into oblivion.

As quietly as he could, he crept up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Boo," he whispered."

She jumped, faster than he could see, and her wand was pointing to his face before he could even blink. She was getting good at that, then again, they all were. "Lumos. Ron! Oh, I'm so sorry." She lowered her wand, which she then dimmed. If it wasn't dark, he would have thought she was blushing. Knowing her, that was probable.

"It's all right, my fault anyway," he replied, sitting down next to her.

"What are you doing up? You should be sleeping, it's your turn to keep watch in a couple of hours." He could hear the subtle nagging in her voice.

"I couldn't sleep. If you want to, you can go, I'll take over from here." Maybe she would actually listen to him and that way, he wouldn't have to spend the night half worrying about her and half trying to fall asleep.

"No," she replied, much to Ron's chagrin. "I'll stay. I've had too much sugar to sleep." She took a sip from the mug she held in her hand, which contained something that looked warm and steamy. Ron could not keep the fact that she looked adorable out of his head.

He looked at her mug, he could smell the sweetness from it and it made him think of home, of when Mum always made some on cold winter nights. "Hot chocolate?"

"Mmm hmm. My mum used to make it for me when I was young and I couldn't sleep. And right now, I…"

"You miss her?"

"Yes." She looked at him. "Do you want some?"

"Sure."

After a few muttering of charms and stirring with her wand, Hermione handed Ron a mug of chocolate. Times like these, he was amazed at Hermione's magical abilities, even in something as small as making hot chocolate from what seemed like thin air (though he did recall her saying in that bookish know-it-all way of hers that food didn't appear out of thing air). This train of thought left him as she handed his mug to him. It felt warm in his hands, dissipating the cold that had fallen to rest on them. As he raised the cup to his lips, he could smell the strong aroma, and as he tasted the chocolate, the longing for home became more palpable, bordering on tangible. It tasted sweet, just as Mum used to make it. "Have you been hiding that from us?" he gently teased.

She smiled, almost guiltily. "I'm sorry, it was my own personal stash. I was going to make you some but…the opportunity never came."

"It's fine, Hermione. As long as you're sharing it now."

They were silent for a while, each sipping their chocolate.

It was Hermione who broke the silence next. "Do you miss your mum?"

"Every day. I miss her cooking the most. What about you? What do you miss about your mum?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, thinking, "I miss her voice. When I was a kid, she always read to me interesting passages she came across in her reading. Things she found moving or significant. And whenever I read a book, I always imagine her reading it to me." She paused for a moment. "Do you know, Mum was so close to not letting me come along? She even talked of moving to America to avoid 'this Dark Wizard business' as she called it. She didn't understand, or, perhaps she did, but didn't want to accept it."

Ron was shocked, he never realized it. That Hermione was close to not being with them. He did not want to think of how everything would be without her around. Somehow, the thought of her not being near, of not being able to hear her voice everyday made his chest constrict. Ron suddenly had the urge to hold her, to make sure she was there, next to him.

She continued. "But she realized, with a little help from my dad, that we couldn't run away, that I needed to be here with you and Harry."

"Of course, we need you Hermione."

"I know, you guys need someone to do the research and background checks. You would be lost," she smiled teasingly.

"You have no idea how right you are, Hermione."

He could see her smiling in the darkness, then resume sipping her chocolate. The moonlight on her face enabled him to see the look of concern in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm worried about Harry."

"Me too. Everybody is."

"No, it's just that, I keep thinking about it and it's not fair. Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be our best friend? He lost his parents when he was a baby and just last year, he's lost Sirius, and just a few months ago, Dumbledore. You know how close he and Dumbledore were. I can't imagine what he must be feeling. I couldn't imagine losing the people I love most, what must that be like for him."

He could hear her voice cracking, which meant she was close to tears. He pulled her close, she let him.

"None of us can. That's why we need to stand by him in any way we can, as far as we can. It's never fair, Hermione. And if it wasn't Harry, it would have been someone else," he said softly, stroking her hair.

"I know, I know I sound selfish. But…I just wish he could have someone, a family. I mean, you have your Mum and Dad, and your brothers, and Ginny, I have my parents, and all Harry has are those horrible Aunt and Uncle of his."

"No, you're wrong, Hermione," he had been waiting seven years to tell her that, though he would never imagine it would be in such a somber setting as this. Better late than never, it seems. She looked up at him, surprised, "He has us," Ron continued resolutely, "We're his best friends, we know him the best, and he knows that he can rely on us for anything. And besides, if anything goes wrong, I'll just fly home and bring Ginny over to make him feel better." That made her lips perk up a little at the sides, though the sadness wasn't gone from her eyes. He wanted to kiss those eyes, to kiss away that concern, those tears that threatened to fall. If only everything could be as simple as that.

"He has us…" she said, as if willing herself to believe it. They sat like that for a few minutes. He found himself enjoying her warmth and her nearness, he could feel her breath steadying, almost hear her heartbeat slowing. After a while, she spoke up again, as she was wont to do. "Ron?"

"Yes Hermione?"

She sat up straight and looked at him. "Tell me that it's going to be okay. Tell me we will get through this."

"It's going to be okay," he replied, smiling. "And when we do, Harry is going to go on and become a world famous Quiddich seeker, I'm going to own the Chudley Cannons, and you will establish the labor union for the House elves and make sure they have a salary and paid vacations."

What surprised Ron most of all was that he believed it. Every word. They were going to be okay. He had to believe that, if only for Harry and Hermione's sake.

Even though the very idea of there being such a world in the future seemed so far away and unlikely, the very suggestion made Hermione smile. "Thank you Ron." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder again.

"Anytime Hermione, anytime," he replied, smiling and taking her hand, which were quite warm.

They sat there for a while. How long, Ron didn't know. All that he could concentrate on was Hermione's head on his shoulder, the scent of her hair that still, amazingly, smelled like strawberries.

"We can't tell Harry anything we just said," he said after the long silence.

"No, he'll never forgive us," replied Hermione, her voice tired.

Then all was silent as they waited for the dawn to slowly come.

* * *

A/N: Let's hope it all turns out well on Saturday. But for now, review, critique, that kind of thing… 


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